


My hunter, oh hunter, Thedas needs you to unite her

by Ullrgodofskiing



Series: Ylvathar Lavellan's Thedas [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Mental Health Issues, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ullrgodofskiing/pseuds/Ullrgodofskiing
Summary: This is the Tale of Inquisitor Lavellan as they struggle to save the world, a lofty goal for one who was an outsider in their own clan, nor do they particularly know how to deal with people, human, dwarven, of the Qun or Elven for that matter.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Hunter Ylvarthar of the Lavellan Clan finds themselves at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, even though everyone was expecting something to happen, no one could have braced for the Sky to be ripped open and one Dalish outsider to happen upon the key to possibly fix all of this.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------This story is a retelling of the story, I try my best not to write dialogue from the game word for word, but we need to start somewhere, I'm hoping the story sort of comes in to it's own the more I write it.
Relationships: Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Ylvathar Lavellan's Thedas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653463
Kudos: 1





	1. Gods, who can mend the slash in the sky

**Author's Note:**

> My Inquisitor Ylvathar Lavellan, is non-binary, they use they/them, he/him, she/her, but for less confusing writing I've stuck to they/them. I'm trying to write a retelling of the story in DAI, with the Cullen-Lavellan romance, but there will be no sex, not in the text nor off-screen. I want this to be a fluffy, sfw romance. The Inquisitor and by extension Cullen in this story are both on the asexual spectrum. Lavellan is sex repulsed.

My Hunter, oh Hunter.  
No one loves you, nor do you lover anyone.  
My steadfast Hunter, you think you are trapped, to be hated.  
By them who are supposed to be like you, by those who are not  
Even by your own, treacherous heart.  
My lovely Hunter, oh lovely one, the gates will open, by Mythal's tears and Andraste's mercy.  
It will all change. Oh it will. 

Ylvathar Lavellan was not very keen on this probable suicide mission the Keeper had sent them on, with friggin’ Knife of all people. Knife, first to the keeper, somehow a talented mage, while being the absolute worst person at everything. Most of all at being nice or kind, or just decent toward Ylva. “This place sure is a fucking show off of those Maker-lovers.” Ylva rolled her eyes “Well I’m pretty sure those old Fen’harel statues and the old temples were just as show-off-y as this.” they sort of hmmphed at the back of his head. “Oh you wouldn’t fucking understand beauty it it spit in your face, Half-breed.” Ah yes, this was “show-off” but his own old temples were “beautiful” it sure would’ve been nice to see the world in black and white like Knife, but then again that wasn’t really a luxury you had as an outsider. While Ylva wasn’t a big fan of humans, some particular humans just had something against elves and that Ylva couldn’t change. They weren't keen on the dalish either, who kept calling them “half-breed” even though their mother had indeed been Elven, from Antiva, originally, she’d never belonged anywhere and thus the dalish saw her as “practically” human. If nothing else, their relationship with their identity, the Dalish and their parents was complicated. They’d been trying to figure out a way to leave it all, but they didn’t know where they would even go, they weren't exactly great with people. The only thing they supposed they were good at was killing people with an axe, which the Keeper had claimed their reason for sending Ylvathar, though they guessed that the Keeper was possibly trying to get Ylva killed. Knife would bail as quick as anything got hairy. 

“This is such a strange place for this kind of meeting, like this place is covered in ice and it’s not like they still use it.” Knife, who was quite a bit shorter than Ylva, was just walking not much caring about anything around them. “Wait, shhh.” Ylva whispered as they had passed an old looking door, which hadn’t been properly shut. They were walking around in a part of the temple where no one was supposed to be, they’d barely managed to not get discovered by one of the Devine’s soldiers, two corridors away. They’d been talking with some mages and tried to talk to some Templars, but that hadn’t gone over so successfully. Thanks to some nicer Templars they had just managed to sneak away. As far as Ylva could gather the talks were not going super great.

The voices from behind that door sounded rather alarming.Ylva tried to slowly push the door further open, they vaguely took note of Knife moving with them to observe. His staff clutched tightly in front of him. 

The explosion was way worse than anything Ylva could have imagined, which made it so much more impressive that Ylva found themself somewhere on the mountain, in the snow, in some ruins, in one piece. It was difficult at that time for them to understand the damage done to their body. They had cuts all over, whether it was from flying debris or what else, their hands were bleeding, one worse than the other, bits of their armor was missing. While they were clambering to get themself upright, their balance was so thrown off, but when they finally got themselves up and put weight on their feet there was this shooting pain in their ankle. They gasped and staggered backward. It took some time to access where they were, discovering that they were not very far from the temple’s former walls, that had burst, the snow was heavy and it was difficult to walk as it was. There was crying, screaming everywhere, Ylvathar was trying to frantically puzzle together what had happened while climbing back toward the temple. They had seen a creature, it was hard to describe it as human, it was 3 times as tall as a human should be, strange red stones were stuck to its body. There were more people, templars and mages and… The Divine! Ylva was very sure that those were the robes and hat that the Divine would wear. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ylvathar did not much appreciate having their arms tied, but even when they untied them, they had no weapon, their axe probably burned in the ruins, they were defenceless. It was not much better than being bound. "This way over the bridge, prisoner!" Cassandra screamed, unnecessarily as the Seeker stood right behind them, Ylva felt their body flinch away from her, tears in their eyes, holding their hands in front of their ears. Cassandra paid it no mind, shrugged and shoved the elf forward "I do have a name, Seeker." Mumbled Ylvathar, Cassandra merely grunted. 

The rift had been spewing green bitss, the whole time the Seeker and the dalish prisoner had been walking up the mountain, they’d walked past soldiers fighting demons that sprang from the green meteors. Ylva cast a glance at the mesmerizing sky, it looked like a strange whimsical ocean, green lines whirling and striking like light up plankton and lighting, pink hues sprang from the very sides of the hole in the sky. It was lighting up the heavens, even though it was the middle of the night. Ylva felt the fear in their body, cold fingers, tingles in their feet, what on earth was happening? Would they all die tonight? Before Ylva’s mind could fathom any of the possible terror to come, the elf bowed over forwards protecting their ears from the terrible extremely loud whistling sound a new meteor was making, so Ylvathar did not see the reason why the Seeker, Cassandra gasped and threw herself onto the prisoner as the ground underneath their feet gave away. 

It was strange watching the rift fall further away as they plummeted down from the bridge, the feeling of gravity pushing the both of them down toward the ground did not do much against the feeling of absolute terror. Cassandra made a grunting noise as if to brace for impact. Ylvathar however hoped to whatever held the power of their magic that they could do this. They held out their arms, one hand sputtering angry greens sparks, the other, fingers stretched, grasping for that power inside, for anything at all. They came to an abrupt but gentle stop a couple of centimetres above the ground. Seeker Cassandra was sort of half draped over Ylva, she was heavy, not surprising since she wore very heavy armor. Ylva was pressed up against their brief barrier hands outstretched. And then it dropped and both of them fell the tiny bit onto the ground, Ylva landed with her temple straight against a rock. They saw the Seeker getting up in the crook of their eye, they felt the jolt of pain against their head, smothering a tiny gasp as they laid on their back, holding their temple. “Prisoner, are you alright?” Cassandra took a knee in front of Ylva, who felt drained suddenly, like something had sucked at the static-y energy buzzing in them full of terror, and laid a thick blanket over them, numbing them somewhat. Their vision was fuzzy, so they closed their eyes and took a deep breath. “Prisoner.” Ylva huffed and mumbled “I possess a name, oh kind Seeker.” this took Cassandra aback “My apologies, but you are alright, are you not?” again Ylva huffed “Alright? Never been further from it.” Ylva could hear a rustling of armor and a warm hand was laid on their wrist. “You used magic.” “Oh just let us skip the name part.” muttered Ylva annoyed, Cassandra made a noise “What prey tell is your name then, mage?” Ylva scoffed “I am no mage, Seeker. My name is Ylvathar of the Lavellan clan. I may possess something vague and weak akin to magic, but I am no mage. And hear this of someone who has been called unworthy of their Keeper for it.” Cassandra helped them up "Well, for what it's worth, it was useful in the moment." 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He watched as the group with Seeker Pentagast gathered around a dalish hunter, tall as anything, raven hair, tightly knotted in a bun on their head, sides shaved, their elven facial tattoos clear to see. They had dropped their axe and raised their left hand, the other holding on to Solas who was whispering calming words. Green sparks sprang forth like flames bubbling up from lava, loud crackling noises filled the air. The emerald sparks coming forth of the elf’s hand were connecting to the absolute fire breaking out of the rift above them. The sound was ramping up and the dalish hunter was being pulled closer to the rift, only a little. Solas still holding their hand followed, then when the noise had ramped up until the unbearable, the elf let out a scream. They were in pain, whether from the rift magic or the sound he could not tell. With a loud ‘pop’ the green flames disconnected from the hunter’s hands, the rift faded slowly until it was gone. Merely green particles in the air told of the strange happening.

The prisoner fell to their knees, arched around their left hand. They’d let go of Solas in the process, they had not let out any more sounds then the one scream, but they were breathing heavily, face cast down. “You are becoming quite good at closing the rifts.” Solas praised, while cautiously watching the hunter get up refusing his or Varric’s help to get up. Their hands were hidden behind their back. “Seeker.” Called Commander Cullen, who himself had been surrounded by demons, whomst he and his soldier dispatched off while they were closing the rift. Cassandra seemed relieved, after all all around them people had died. “You managed to close the rift? Well done.” Cassandra nodded while the hunter stumbled closer “Yes, well the prisoner seems to be able to help with that.” “I saw. I hope you can help, we’ve lost a lot of people getting this far.” The hunter's face was streaked in blood, scratches and scars, they caught the Commander's gaze, with their dark eyes. "Well it probably will claim mine going all the way, so for what it's worth I'll pay for whatever happened as well." They didn't give him another look and gathering themselves stomped forward with new strength. 

Cullen hoped, despite everything that this prisoner could help, it seemed like a long shot, but he'd seen stranger things happen. Although most had felt like cruel jokes the maker played on them. 

Ylvathar felt like the person they had been before they had awoken in the cell at Haven was someone else. Someone they had known, a long time ago, not someone they'd been just a few days ago. Solas, a complete stranger had kept them alive. A dept they didn't know if they could repay, as it seemed that this might be the day they die. 

The cold winds on the mountain were ruthless, lashing at every bit of warmth they had left in their body. When Ylva had awoken in the cell, they had not realised how their coat had been missing, weapons lost, even their necklace… They had been too busy waking up utterly confused, in shackles, Seeker Cassandra screaming at Ylva for answers. They thought she'd kill them right then, but Leliana had different ideas of how to talk to the prisoner. 

The fear they'd felt surrounded by soldiers, by Seeker Cassandra and Leliana had sat in their skin even after they'd cut the ropes around Ylvas wrist. It had felt like they already were dead. There wasn't any time to think about anything before the explosion. 

Ferelden boots and a flimsy coat did not much help against the snow and the icy air, nor did it shake this feeling if being misplaced in their own body. Whatever was going to happen had already decided to happen, they could only try to do the best with the opportunity given.

Varric found it somewhat amusing how this tall as anything elven hunter was mowing through the snow ahead of them all, Cassandra last, looking like Daisy had once, entering Kirkwall's Alienage. Wide-eyed in shock and awe. This prisoner didn't seem much like Daisy nor any Dalish elf Varric had known, well for one none of them had an angry green portal in their left hand. But he didn't think any of them would react with the "Oh I gotta save everyone, sure why not" attitude Ylvathar Lavellan had presented. It sort of reminded him of Hawke, in the later years when he had known him, hair shaved short, a very new beard, barely thick enough to show, new-found confidence, ready to die for them all. 

Arriving at the Temple's ruins felt like arriving at a mass graveyard, there were bodies… If only they were just normal corpses, they were still kneeling or standing up right some hands in front of their eyes, burned, their bodies made to look like a strange combination of stone and wood. Some bodies glowed out of their eye sockets. They barely looked human now. This was the first time Ylva's consciousness came back to them enough to wonder about Knife. They'd walked past a couple of bodies with long pointed ears, huddled together, trying to find comfort in each other. Ylvathar stopped, while this allowed their companion to catch up, Ylva did not even notice. They knew Knife thought of them as some sort of fake, and outsider, even though they'd grown up together. But the thought of him burned, or what if he was alive, probably left Ylvathar for dead at the first opportunity. They couldn't remember it, everything right before the explosion was like ripped from their head, a whole in the memories of someone else. It unnerved them how difficult it was to access their emotions, like they were out of reach. 

Finally Varric carefully patted Ylva's elbow "Come on, hunter, you can't do anything for 'em now." Ylva came back to the present, to the bodies, they'd been staring. "I suppose not." They mumbled, letting Varric pull them toward the middle of the ruins. Looking at the Breach up close, was different, different then those small rifts. The storm-filled grey sky was laced with green tendrils, they all came into a cluster above the rift. Truly it was not as much a hole in the sky as it was a hole in everything. Just a few metres above the ground the green lightning swirled and hissed. It was almost like a rip in space. It almost felt like it was alive, nothing was still or quiet, parts moved, rocks and debris got swept in the green taken away like waves. That was it, the magic surrounding it almost felt like water, powerful, sometimes soft, sometimes pure deathly anger. Rocks kept flying in all directions, the noises, like explosions, hisses, crashing of the green waves against the sky. 

The Breach. They had to close it. Right, now the emotions came back, just in time to feel the fear again. Cassandra pointed at a small part of the temple where the foundation was still in tact “That was where you walked out of the fade and our Soldiers found you. They say a woman was in the rift behind you, no one knows who she was.” They stood watching the breach for a few seconds, Ylva closed their eyes, listening to the noises it made, the screams of this untameable power pouring into the world. A voice ripped through this moment “You are here! Thank the Maker.`` It was the other woman that had interrogated Ylva in Haven’s cells, a purple cowl partly hiding her face. “Leliana.” breathed Seeker Cassandra turning toward Leliana and the Soldiers now lining up behind her. Ylvathar only partially tuned, hiding their face from all the onlookers scornful looks. “Leliana, have your Soldiers line up around the Temple.” Leliana nodded in Cassandra direction and started barking orders to her people, which made Ylva flinch. Cassandra turned around now looking directly at Ylva “This is your chance. Don’t waste it.” Ylva did not know what to say to this, they could feel the swirling mark on their hand angrily hissing, aching like a fresh cut. “You say that as if I could decide anything here.” they raised the mark up between them, in sparked a few green tendrils toward Cassandra, who stepped back just a little. Solas, standing behind Ylvathar stepped to their side, “No perhaps not, but there is a chance. This rift was the first, it is the key to this whole situation. Seal it? Perhaps we close the breach itself.`` This made as much sense as the rest of all this. “Well we all ready?” they were surprised as to how calm they voice sounded. “Not in the slightest, but isn’t that just the way.” chuckled Varric behind them, readying his giant crossbow. 

Instead of running down the path, the long way around Ylva swung themself over the barricades, landing just a level above the charred ground beneath the rift. Just as Cassandra was about to shout down at them they all froze as they heard voices. 

“Now is the hour of our victory, bring forth the sacrifice.” commanded a deep booming voice, something strange distorting it. Cassandra gasped as she ran down the path towards where Ylvathar had dropped “What are we hearing?” Ylva was closely watching the rift, it was humming, moving when the voice had spoken, it stilled as it quieted. “It seems like it’s something being played from the rift, a memory?” Solas’ voice came from just behind Cassandra “Might I venture a guess? The person who created the Breach.” Varric on the other hand stood staring just ahead of both Cassandra and Solas. It was first then Ylvathar noticed what he was staring at. Red, glowing and pulsing crystals, growing out of the ground, the walls, every surface. Ylvathar saw now that all around the ruins those crystals had grown, they had not been anywhere before the explosion. “You know that stuff is Red Lyrium, Seeker.” he said, his voice was stripped of all his nonchalance, his humor and charm. He just seemed... crushed, Ylvathar was not sure why or what this even was. “It is isn’t it?” Both Solas and Cassandra were passing the Red Lyrium with watchful eyes. “But what on earth is it doing here?” Solas stopped at another column of the once-Temple out of which stuck a large piece of the strange crystal. “Magic could have pulled it out from underneath the Temple, corrupted it, changed it.” Varric made a disgusted noise, “It’s vile, evil. Just, please, nobody touch it.” The group had finally reached Ylvathar’s point, but just when Ylvathar swung one leg over the last banister the booming voice spoke again. “Keep it still!” “Someone! Anyone! Help me!” it was a women’s voice with a distinct Orleasian accent. Ylvathar saw how Seeker Cassandra Visibly flinched. “That voice!” Ylvathar too felt that this voice scratched at something at the back of their head, they tried to grasp for it, but it slipped away too quickly. “That is the Devine’s voice!” she exclaimed while jumping loudly over the banister, Ylvathar still stood with one leg up on it. 

They all followed her arriving on level ground just as the last voice shouted across the ruins, and this one Ylvathar recognized instantly. “Great Mythal- What is.” their voice was cut off as the memory faded away when another tremor went through the whole area. Cassandra’s eyes bore into them “You!” She held out an arm as if she was going to do something, but she was holding herself back “You were there! You lied!” Ylvathar almost tripped and fell backward as they quickly tried to back away from the Seeker. Varric and Solas both stepped in front of Ylvathar “Seeker I- I cannot remember!” Solas nodded at Cassandra “There isn’t anything to be done about it now.” 

“This rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit not very stable. We’ll have to open it to seal it properly.” Ylva raised their hand with the mark on it up to their face “Can I do that?” Solas stepped closer, wrapping his hand around Ylvathar’s wrist “I think so. You can do it, Hunter.” This did not really make Ylvathar believe more into this plan or in the mark, but there was no other option. “But. THat will likely attract attention from the other side of the rift.” He caught Seeker Cassandra’s eyes and nodded “There will be demons! Everyone! Prepare yourself!” The soldiers around the ruins started taking fighting stances. Ylvathar gave their companions a last nodd, Varric whispered a quiet “Go Hunter!”

Ylvathar could almost not feel their fingertips, the icy air whipped at their body, their face was cold, the wind made it hard to orient around in all the noise. They took a deep breath as they stared at the rip in their hand “You better fucking work.” they drew a finger over the mark, which made it hiss and growl menacingly, finally they took a few steps toward the rift pushing their hand forward, is felt like reaching through water, very thick water. As they stretched out their fingers, warmth sprung forth from their palm. The sounds were so loud, crashing, almost glass like smash sounds. 

Varric had not expected any of this sitting on that ship toward, Thedas’ ass, Ferelden Village. Even though watching Cullen throw up certainly was not fun. But this, the Hunter kind of hilariously punched the green air with their just so green glowing fist. It looked like the rift almost blasted open with rocks and of course demons, a giant one came crashing down righting front of the poor Hunter. They were sent flying by some sort of pressure wave and one of those giant green rocks hit them in the face. 

Someone was screaming, a lot of voices were screaming, it was hard to understand what was going on. They could not see, everything was a green haze, something stung behind their left eye. Heat had finally started to sprout from their head.

They did not move much as the enormous claw of the pride demon dug itself into the ground only metres away from their beaten face. “Fuck all of Ferelden!” he yelled loading a poison covered bolt, sprinting toward the creature. Letting the bolt fly, he notices Solas throwing spells at it, he makes a mad dash for the elven Warrior on the ground. “Andraste’s knickers, you conscious, hunter?!” He carefully pulled the giant elf somewhat over his shoulders and dragged them a couple of metres away so they could gather themself. Behind them a dozen Soldiers, Solas and Cassandra drove the Pride demon away from them. “You all there again, little one?” Ylvathar touched the heat over their eye, their hand came away red and dusty. “Really? I have a name and I’m twice your height.” Varric let Ylvathar flip themself on their own feet again, somewhat wobbly. Varric gave them a pat on the elbow “It’s called irony, Hunter” and with that he broke away, already loading another bolt. 

Ylvathar shook their head, though they were not able to shake the screeching rigning in their ears. Axe drawn, though it lay strangely in their marked hand, they braced themself for battle.


	2. Andraste's Ass what do we do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What to do with the hole in the sky? Was there any way anyone could get out of this particular Shit-Show alive? Unlikely, but Varric was friends with Hawke and the Prisoner had the same chaotic energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Inquisitor Ylvathar Lavellan, is non-binary, they use they/them, he/him, she/her, but for less confusing writing I've stuck to they/them.

Chapter 2

An ocean so deep, there should not be,  
It’s darkness forever pulling you down.  
For sorrow and fear are the deepest of them and if you cannot keep them at bay,  
You will be drowned. 

The storm was picking up, hard almost rock-like snow was flung in their face, the winds were lashing in all directions, it felt like they were in the open sea, wet and cold as though warmth was only ever going to be this painful cut above their eye. Real warmth was lost, not that Ylvathar had ever truly felt it. 

There were so many soldiers everywhere, some in heavy armor, steady against the storm, some in scout armor, barely enough leather to cover their chests. Demons were pouring out from the rift, this strange tear between this world and the Fade. The largest, of course, had almost crushed Ylvathar as the act of opening the giant rift had cost them dearly. They could hear the Commander from somewhere behind the column of green, crystal-y rift, barking order, battling himself. Leliana was in the background too, bow in hand, concentrating on her people. 

The massive demon was a strange colour of blue-gray, it’s blood a truer colour of blue. It’s strange deformed head with its many eyes was streaked in the cobbold blue blood, a bold dipped in green liquid stuck straight out of one of its eyes. It did not care, it had summoned some kind of whip, with which it lashed out lacing it with electrical magic. Ylvathar pulled Cassandra back, just early enough so she did not get the lash drawn across her face, but the creature did not purely rely on its lash. It brought forth a clawed hand twice the size of Ylvathar and slashed at the warriors in its closest proximity. Cassandra and Ylvathar were hit, a couple of the soldiers around them too. Varric and Solas had a little distance on the beast, but they had full view of the row of warriors thrown to the ground. Solas yelled something and a very powerful green blast broke from his staff. This sent the Pride demon tumbling back to its feet. 

Ylvathar took vague notice of the pain in their side, the non-marked hand pressed against it, but that was not the priority. As the massive monster fell back, the swarm of demons around them fell, they disappeared, this was maybe the only they were going to get. Pushing themself up, vaguely taking notice of the bodies around them, they couldn’t tell if or alive, they took a few steps. Under the rift they came to a stop and once again and thrust their marked hand skyward. 

The mark reacted instantly, it felt like scalding water was bubbling forth from their palm, hissing, screeching and crashing tendrils bursting outward, connecting to the rift above. Ylvathar could feel their feet losing ground, they were being lifted by their hand. Their whole body tensed, as the ground started to be ripped further and further from them. I felt as though there was some kind of hook inside their palm, that was ripping them upward. They let out a scream of agony and then, and then-  
They fell backwards to the frozen ground, above them the rift let loose another tremor and with it another wave of demons. “Oh fucked be it all!” Ylvathar heard Varric scream from somewhere vaguely to the left. The rift was not closed, the whirling debris above, the magic, it was wide open. 

Ylvathar now finally swept their eyes over their torso, their right hand pressed against the largest point of pain. There was a lot of blood that had run down, staining the flimsy coat, Cassandra had thrown at them as they left Haven. There was that strange warmth again, from their own blood, in this numbing cold. They pulled away their right hand, there was a gauging slash, diagonally across their side, it almost felt as though the air around it was steaming, the sharp contrast of this painful heat in the snow storm raging around them. They were not trying to look inside the slash much, they did not really have the wish to acquaint themselves with the insides of their body in such a manner. Their right hand felt sticky, they’d not imagined that “sticky” was the way to describe holding bits of your own body in your hands. “Hunter!” it was Solas, Ylvathar was not sure how much time had passed during all of this, nor could they tell reality from feverish dream, everything was covered in a deafening haze, this numbness. Solas threw himself down, already pulling Ylvathar upright, glowing hands tracing their injury. Ylvathar grabbed his hand with their bloody one, stopping him in his tracks, forcing him to look at them. “Ma ghilana mir din'an, Solas.” (“Guide me into death”, basically, “Let me die.”) his face scrunched up, whether This was disgust, anger or pity, Ylva could not not tell. "Mala suledin nadas, Ylvathar." ("You must endure.") 

There was a loud grunt not very far from were they were. Ylvathar could feel some strength return to them. They had expected Solas' healing to feel cold, almost like a numbing blanket over the angry heat of the wound. But it felt warm, not hot, not cold, gentle warmth. Skin was threading itself together again, loosely for the wound was deep and there was only so much Solas could do in midst this battle. Ylva turned their head to look for the noise. 

It was Cassandra and a handful of the hit Soldiers pushing the Pride demon away from the two elves. Varric stood not far behind Solas continuously shooting at the giant beast. "Come on, Hunter! One more and we can have a drink at the tavern!" Ylva's breath came out raspy, they wanted to laugh at this, but it mostly came out in a cough, between the cold air and the wound breathing hurt a lot. 

Finally Solas pulled Ylvathar upright, a hand on their shoulder, as they stood only barely. "It's almost down! Prisoner, stand ready!" Varric appeared on Ylva's other side a hand against the small of their back. "You got this, little one." He gave them a wry smile, which did nothing to make Ylvathar feel better. 

All of the colour was drained from their face, they stood askew against their new companions. Cassandra rammed her sword good and well to the hilt into the monster's belly. It let out a haunting scream, as it sank back against the pillars of green crystal behind it. "Now!" They twisted their hand around, this angered the mark, as it's small protest became loud. Green lighting shot down from the rift directly at their left hand. They tried their best not to flinch back from it. As it hit, instead of warmth, freezing cold invaded their body through their hand. They could feel Solas and Varric holding them as the lightning started to pull, violently at their wrist. It twisted, wrongly and painfully, a brief terrible fear hit them, of their hand being ripped clean off their arm. But no such thing occurred, this time they were yanked forward as if a horse had been bound to their wrist and it had galloped forward. It threw the three of them off balance and Ylvathar’s feets charred in the ground as they were pulled closer. 

“Men! Away from the rift!” Ylva vaguely heard the Commander shout somewhere beyond the rift. It felt as though the rift was just going to keep pulling, maybe swallow them and drag them inside the fade. If such a thing was even possible. Ylva hoped it was not. 

Then it stopped, the lightning broke off from the rift and now traveled down toward Ylva’s hand. They closed their eyes, right before it hit. There was a crash, no that was wrong, there were many crashes. Ylvathar could not entirely play off, the pain and where it came from, the cold and warmth, the voices and all of it came crashing down against them as though the haze of distance between them and the world had been ripped away brutally. 

Ylvathar had never dreamed much, something they were told, they were not good enough for, too weak. However what followed after their last attempt and or possible clothing of the large rift, was almost like they were in a dream. The things that happened in reality, were just vague suggestions, of voices, warm touches. They could not will their body to open its eyes, or move anything at all, but they were vaguely conscious. 

Someone had gathered them, long limbs, tousled hair, in his arms. The voice seemed, like one they'd heard before, Varric was there too "Sorry Curly, they're too darn long for me to carry." He wasn't far from their ears. There was a touch at their temples, while the carrier was still walking forward, Solas. "They are in shock. I suspect all of this otherly magic has not been easy on them." The person carrying Ylva was slowing a little, adjusting their shoulders, which pressed them into his shoulders. Ylva somewhere in the back of their head noted that there was soft fur touching their face. "There are some horses back at the forward camp, I can bring them back to Haven quick, get them to a fire, they're freezing." The voice of the Commander, who was carrying Ylvathar, sounded less cold then it had before. There was general agreement. After which Ylva's mind could no longer make heads or tails of the words spoken, they seemed abstract, merely noises. At some point after that, their consciousness slipped into the dark. 

"I don't think we should be telling them what to do at all, Seeker. Much less after they wake up." Varric, had no clue why this tall elf was so important to him already. He sympathised with them, the way that they'd woken up, confused, utterly terrified and literally a black hole in their hand. They were rivaling Hawke in the shenanigans they got themself into, after 2 days of knowing him. 

Cassandra glared at him, over the table "Why are you here exactly?" She sneered "I'm here to make sure you don't abuse the poor soul." Varric looked around to Leliana and Josephine, who had been whispering something. "Cassandra I think we should let them take their own time to recover." Solas nodded "The hunter is weakened mentally and physically, the mark is table for now. I think it unwise to put more weight on their shoulders for now." "I agree." Cullen Varric thought, had been so strange since the rift. He'd carried Ylvathar all the way to the Cabin in which Varric slept as well, well and Solas had spent 2 nights watching over them. Making sure the mark didn't act on its own. 

All of the chantry was in disarray over what had happened. Varric heard a couple of sisters whisper "I've heard it isn't really a dalish elf." The other had maliciously whispered back "Of course not, could you imagine a filthy knife-ear sent by the maker, ha!" Images kept flashing against his inner eye, of this tall elven warrior, covered in blood and dirt, thrusting forward their hand to close the rift. The face of determination, he almost feared they'd actually die. 

"They risked their life, Seeker. You cannot treat them like a prisoner." Varric hadn't expected Cullen to take this stance. "They should be allowed to rest and be allowed to decide." Josephine, calm, collected, Josephine chipped in "If you both will check up on them, just tell them about the situation when they wake up. Let them decide." 

It felt like someone had wrenched their arm out of its socket and shoved it back in again. Their chest ached, their side felt like it was on fire. But there was warmth now, although waking up felt like being plunged into cold water. It came to them all at once, the noises outside, the warmth of the fire, the air, the smells, mostly blood. 

Their underclothes were stuck to their skin with sweat. They carefully tried to move their right arm, it was heavy and slow to move. There was a massive blanket over them, with a rough texture that gave Ylvathar goosebumps. They couldn't move their left arm much, so when they slowly sat upright they pulled it into their lap and cradled it carefully. 

There was a knock at the door and a voice over on the other side of the room said "Come in." This made Ylvathar jump and gasp. Two things happened next, Varric jumped up "Oh, Andraste's sweet ass, I didn't realise you were awake." The second thing was that the person who had knocked came inside. Ylvathar couldn't really take in either, as both things sort of mashed together and overwhelmed them. They sank back against the wall next to the bed. 

It was Cullen, golden curls in disarray, a thick coat thrown over his armor, a pieced together heavy thing, templar gauntlets, some old chestplate. He wasn't wearing gloves, his fingers were covered in ink and he was holding a letter. "Curly. What in Andraste's name are you doing here at this hour." This made Ylva look for a window, over on Varric's side a window overlooked, nothing really, it was pitch black out. "Oh I must apologise, I didn't think-" Varric shot Ylvathar a worried glance, from which he learned that Ylvathar had sort of flopped backward bonelessly. "Gods, please close the door." They finally whispered, which Cullen quickly did. "We received a letter from their Clan, Josephine was about to send a dozen letters to elves she knows, but I thought we should wait- to have your permission. I must apologise, I only meant to deliver it quietly." 

Ylva's mind was swimming, everything came through blurry, it took all they had to sift through the information to understand what was going on. "Don't apologise so much, Commander." They said then. "Maybe we should get someone to look at you-" Varric started, but they held up their good hand, which had dried blood crusted under their nails. "I honestly would just like to take a few deep breaths of fresh air, I assume there aren't many people out right now. I need quiet." They both sort of nodded, but they had not in fact expected Ylvathar, wearing nothing more than a sleeveless linen top and some trousers, would wobbly get on to their feet and walk right past Cullen into the cold night. They just stared at each other.

The snow was like needles stabbing directly into the soles of their naked feet. It really was pitch black out, although they could somewhat see, because of the bright snow. They were in the middle of the Village, amongst so many people they did not know, but then again, they’d hardly felt like they had known the Clan they’d grown up amongst. When they had awoken, their mind was so foggy and crowded and then Varric and Cullen. They had almost forgotten what happened. They saw a big gate, with large doors and headed for it. For the first time they choiced a glance at their left hand, cradled by the other and pressed into their torso. 

Ylvathar could make out a distinct green flicker, along with a quick shooting pain, that quickly subsided. There were no guards at the gate, so they slipped through it silently. Before the gates was laid out a camp, many tents, geometrically out up, training dummies, a stable, with no mounts. There was a frozen lake and a forest. Ylvathar could feel the cold air flush their cheeks, their arms too, but they ignored this. A forest, trees in the slumber of cold snow. They could feel themself instantly head toward the treeline, the familiar, the trusted. Not like these wooden huts, or that mark on their hand. By the Fen’harel, their own body did not feel familiar. It all seemed hostile and sharp, where the trees felt peaceful and kind. 

Chasing after Ylvathar, did not feel right to Varric, they’d been through a lot, in like 2 days, Cassandra would have them running around the Hinterlands, to meet some Cleric. Varric was not sure Cassandra should be let anywhere near the elf, or the Herald of Andraste as everyone had been calling them. No, leave them alone to deal with all this, before their head explodes from too many faithful Cleric and Sisters shouting opinions at them. However Cullen did not see it the same way “They left wearing almost nothing, they’re going to freeze themself to death.” Varric sat back in his bed examining the Ex-templar’s expression. How strange a person he was, how much he had changed from the old times, strange. Before Varric could tell him to leave the poor elf along, he’s grabbed a large coat from the pile of clothes some elves of the Inquisition had been able to gather, and ran out the door. 

The moon was out, though it’s waning appearance too was strange, for it was not it’s silvering, glowing self, a faint green shimmer even touched it, the silent watcher of the night. The tree branches seemes ink black against the faint light, at least the trees protected them from the wind whooshing over the sleeping lake. There was a sound which made Ylva whirl on themself, apnick filled them as they realised they had no weapon, so instead, they their right hand, tiny sparks of magic flicking threatening to spill more. “Herald!” 

They turned, even though the call didn't seem for them. Coming up the dimly lit path through the trees came the Commander, who Ylvathar had told they would die. He came struggling to walk through the snow, which Ylvathar had gracefully walked through without trouble. For a moment Ylvathar felt intensely confused yet again, they did however see then that he was holding a large, dalish-fur jacket. As he got close he handed it to them. "I know you wanted to be alone, I was just-" he started somewhat out of breath, it was hard to breathe in the cold. 

Ylva let the texture of the jacket go through them like a shiver, their skin was cold, they realized. They pulled the coat around them letting it warm them. Then "Herald?" Cullen was a little shorter than Ylvathar, which to Ylva wasn't unusual, they towered over most elves and humans, though they supposed Qunari would probably be taller, not that they'd met one. 

Embarrassment touched Cullen's face, his cheeks were flushed from the cold, Ylvathar was not used to this much kindness, not from anyone. The way Solas and Varric had backed them up during the fight around- "Is the breach closed?" It blurted out of them, they could hold it back as much as a waterfall could hold back it's raging water. Their thoughts were all moved around, like they couldn't play of their memories in chronological order. Cullen nodded slowly "The rift- At the Temple of sacred Ashes, you sealed it safely." They wobbled backward a little to look at his face "There is a "however there somewhere." He nodded again, of course, the green flickers throughout the sky- Of course it was not over. "Yes, the breach itself is still active- Though I do not understand the details, for that I must tell you to ask Solas." "I see." It couldn't be over that easy, they supposed and sighed loudly. "I must apologise for chasing after you like this, I shall leave you alone, Herald." As he made to turn Ylva raised an eyebrow "Heralf? You said that before. What- Why do you call me that?" He cleared his throat, cheeks now thoroughly red, as far as Ylvathar could tell in the dim light. "They call you that. After you closed the rift. The Herald of Andraste." Ylva was speechless, what did you say to such a thing.

"Come again? Who's they?" They started picking at the hem of their coat. "The people- Haven first I think. When they saw you being carried in to the Village, all covered in blood, mark in your hand. Whispers started." "And now?" "At least all over Ferelden and Orlais, letters come in, they've all heard of it." Ylvathar buried their face in their hands "Oh gods, the world has gone mad." "Um- Er, if you would prefer me to call you something else I- I- it's up to you." It was strange, Cullen seemed, at least, at first glance like just some human soldier, but he wasn't really behaving like you'd expect a human to treat, well they supposed Cassandra, would've already branded them a "mage" a dalish one at that. Yet here this complete stranger was, running after them, middle of the night, just to bring them a coat.

They supposed their actions at the Temple must've made an impression on him. "Well I can think of worse things you could've shouted after me- However I'd prefer if you just used my name, Ylvathar-" they thought for a moment, the Lavellan Clan was not so bad, not towards humans or others as Dalish Clans went, if you weren't Ylvathar that is. But it really was the only name to use here. "Lavellan. Ylva's fine though." Cullen gave them a muted smile "Is that what you Clan calls you?" This made Ylva laugh, bitterly "Oh no. They usually called me 'Failure' or 'Outsider'." Cullen's face filled with a mixture of horror and sympathy "I'm sorry- I shouldn't have assumed-" Ylvathar smiled weakly at him "How about you, Commander can't be your name, right?" "No! No of course not. I'm Knigh- I am Cullen Rutherford." Ylvathar found it somehow endearing, how much he fumbled with his words now, as when they were on the battlefield, he was completely confident. "Whatever comes next, Cullen, I hope we might become friends."


	3. Thedas meet the Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So somehow against all odds, Ylvathar Lavellan find themself an agent of the newly formed Inquisition, the hole in the sky is still there, just less explode-y. It feels like the calm before the storm. So now with their new-found life Ylvathar has to find their place while endeavouring to save most of Thedas.

"By the good graces of Fen'harel, please stop bringing me news, I'll go to the Chantry soon." Ylvathar exclaimed after the third messenger in 5 minutes came to deliver another document. They had only just woken up and were now reading through the letter, Cullen had delivered. There was a very formal one addressed at Leliana and Cassandra mostly from the Keeper. For the most part it acknowledged that Ylvathar was indeed alive and asking for whereabouts, which Ylvathar found intensely strange and unnerving. 

Then there was a second letter, addressed at Ylvathar directly. "Knife is missing, yet you turn up amongst the armies of the faithful. You are no longer welcome amongst our Clan, but you'd do well to find Knife, as a last good deed for all the years we cared for you." 

They hadn't expected any different, but it still stung, for how they decided to pretend only in appearance, that they cared for Ylva. They flung the letter to the floor and picked through the clothes they had brought in, most of them elven, a few dalish, some more of city-make. Against their comfort they choose a pair of long boots, instead of traditional barefoot shoes, the snow in Haven was ruthless. 

After dressing they went over to the tiny mirror on the wall, the person in the mirror seemed like a stranger. There was a pale scar across their brown skin just above their eye, it was large and only barely grown. The scar had messed with Ylva's Valaslin, the lines across were now somewhat crooked. Their ink black hair hung limply around their ears in clumps, it was very greasy. 

There was a brief moment of intense panic as they just had remembered their axe, frantically they looked around for it. They found it quickly leaned against the wall beside their bed. There were several red ribbons wrapped around the handle, the pulled off one and used it to pull their hair into a knog. That way you could see the shaved side of the head. Pushing the axe into place on their back, they left the building. 

People outside stared, they followed Ylva's movement, people stopped in their tracks and whispered. Some words they could pick up such as "That's the Herald, really I'm telling you." Were less unsettling then "Maker forbid, one of those wild men be a 'chosen' Pah!" That Ylva was used to the near on hero worship in some people's faces disturbed them. They looked at them like they weren't even a person. This behaviour was all deeply terrifying and Ylva rushed toward the large building at the top of the stairs hoping less people would turn.

"The inquisition, I'm supposing I couldn't leave even if I wanted to." It wasn't the right thing to say facing down all of these leaders in this "organisation" which had suddenly sprung up around them, somehow trapping Ylva in the middle. Leliana smiled "We wouldn't stop, be assured. Though I imagine you'd be in great danger, seeing as half of Thedas now know who you are. But it doesn't seem like you want to?" Ylva shrugged "As far as I'm concerned I should have died, if not at the explosion, then when closing the breach. Take your pick, I view this as 'bonus time'. Besides it's not like running from the Breach would help anyone, not me either way. As it is, I'm stuck with this." They raised their left hand, revealing the swirling green lines against their dark skin. "We will do our utmost to protect you, Ser Lavellan." It was Josephine who spoke somewhat for the first time properly to Ylva, her smile was careful, one hand gripping a quill, often eagerly writing on her clipboard. "But I'll have to go meet that Chantry cleric." Ylva concludes "We do not know what we would do, as the Chantry poses such a threat against you and what we are trying to do." Ylva nodded "This is the best you've come up with, fair enough." Leliana laid down a letter on the table sliding it toward Ylvathar. "Scout Harding has secured a camp in the Hinterlands, this is her report, be assured we don't take your safety lightly." Josephine smiled lightly "We will try to make sure everything goes smoothly, from Haven, while Seeker Pentagast and your other companions will accompany you to the field. Rest assured, ser Lavellan, we support you.”

Ylvathar was not sure how they’d imagined their life to be like if they’d managed to leave the clan on their own, they weren’t sure they ever had. They were very sure it wouldn’t have been walking around the countryside of Ferelden. “So, have you ever been around Kirkwall?” Varric helped Ylva strap their battleaxe to their back. "Not really, no. We stuck to less conservative places around. My clan had a lot of good relations with humans, besides, for a long time there was a different clan around Sundermount. Our Keeper didn't feel much like meeting other Dalish." Varric smiled "Ah, yeah, that clan, I knew." 

Talking to Mother Giselle unnerved Ylva, Cassandra seemed to agree with her, but at least Varric seemed just as put of by the idea of sending Ylva to Val Royeaux "I do not love how they all think I'm sent by the Maker and expect me to save them all. Mythal give me strength." Ylvathar huffed as they headed back to the new camp, Ylva had many requests of things they should do, it was overwhelming. Varric patted their elbow "Well you did save them before. They see you as the only hope they got." Ylva scoffed bitterly "Is that supposed to make me feel better? I- I can barely take care of myself, my own clan exiled me and now 'save the world please' it's too much." at that Varric laughed, it wasn’t a ‘making fun of you’ laugh, which Ylva knew very well, it was more sympathetic. He smiled up at them “Hawke had some similar issues. Though it wasn’t the world, mostly just one awful city.” Ylva laughed “Guess you moved up in the world.” Varric looked up at them “Wow Herald of Sass, not as serious as I thought.”

Walking through the hinterlands had felt so calming, Haven was no large town, but as it was in fact the headquarters of the Inquisition who was taking care and hosting many people, soldiers, workers, refugees and so on. The hinterlands were equally filled with people but there was so much more space in between, there were forests and mountains, not quite like the wilderness in the free marches, but good enough for now. 

Master Dennet presented Ylva with this huge dark brown mare, Ylvathar's eyes widened as Dennet's daughter handed her over, with a smile, mostly because she wanted to race Ylva, though Ylvathar politely declined. Varric hadn’t seen Ylva had never really been allowed too much, sometimes, used carriages, but never for long. 

Going to Val Royeaux was overwhelming in many ways, for one the Orleasean people looked at Ylva as though they were naked or just in general doing something awful or scandalous by mutely walking behind Cassandra who was leading them to the city center. Ylva could feel anxiety burning at the back of their throat, steps heavy. Being screamed at by chantry clerics and Seekers alike wasn’t exactly what they had expected but, then again Ylvathar had been entirely overwhelmed with what to expect at all. Though the most surprising thing to happen within the city was when the group made to leave. A weak voice sounded from the gates “Inquisition?” They all turned, somehow Cassandra, Solas and Varric stood in a ring around Ylva, who towered over them all. The woman was elven, short black hair, exhaustions was showing in her face, she was dressed in circle robes, though she carried no staff. “Grand enchanter Fiona?” Cassandra breathed. 

Vivienne was, strange, for Ylvathar who had somewhat lived in fear of being locked up in a Circle if they’d ever leave the suffocating safety of their Clan, Vivienne flaunted the “Las loyal mages” title as though it meant anything to Ylva. Ylvathar supposed it wasn’t their place to refuse anyone who wanted to help, but couldn’t see themself trying to make friends with her, which, they supposed was fine too. Vivienne could help without Ylva having to like her much. 

“Aaaaaand you’re an elf, boy, that’s great.” the elven rogue looked up at Ylva, bright blond hair in her face “I just hope you’re not too elf-y. But as long as you- you know.” She wiggles her fingers and makes explosion noises. Varic elbowed Ylva because that was exactly how he’d tried to explain to Josephine how the mark worked. “You can start a club.”

"With all due respect, Commander, what could the remaining templars do? Suppress the Breach? Lock it in a room?" Cullen looked somewhat stricken, Ylva liked him and they didn't mean to hurt his feelings, but truly the idea of asking the Templars for help sounded worse than running back to their Clan begging to live with them again. Ylva realized that everyone had gone quiet. So they quickly added "Apart from my doubts about their help, I would never walk into that nest of wasps. I have given up many things for this Inquisition, I would rather chance my fate with Fiona's mages, who've expressed their acceptance of me and how they would welcome my help." Everyone nodded, Cullen rested one of his gloved hands against his temples and sighed "That is entirely fair."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know this chapter isn't quite like the other two, it's kind of hard to write around how the game sort of switches here, but I still want to introduce our babes. And if I didn't call it quits here, I'm sure I would never get further in the story.


End file.
